


Dying Breath

by ugagradlady



Category: Villainous (Cartoon)
Genre: I hate harvestmen, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Sickfic, Surprise Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-30
Updated: 2019-04-30
Packaged: 2020-02-10 07:13:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18655534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ugagradlady/pseuds/ugagradlady
Summary: A young villain oversteps his boundaries at Black Hat's manor and receives a lesson in just who's in charge.





	Dying Breath

“What do you want?”  
The cool, shadowy halls of Black Hat Manor were not something that healthy living things would willingly spend time in. Ghostly moans and brain-freeze winds had been setting Matagot’s fur on edge since he entered, and the meeting with the _master_ of the house had given him a feeling of primal terror he hadn’t felt since harvestmen spilled into his childhood crib.  
The creature before him was much less threatening. A giant blue bear with a flower on its head-which he’d officially been forbidden to ask the name of-wasn’t natural, but not disturbing either. In fact, it was a sorry, punchable thing. The creature wailed mournfully as it tugged on Matagot’s hand.  
“What the fuck is the point of this?” he asked. “Are you trying to make me gay?” The bear, now even more distressed, pulled him to his feet and pointed to the dark hall ahead. “I’ve completed my transactions!” he hissed, clawing at its face. “I just want out of this place!”  
It whimpered, but refused to let go, in fact starting to drag him across the carpet. “Fine, Teddy Ruxpin’s inbred cousin. I’ll go with you,” he said with a kick to its kidneys. “Just let me walk! Look-you snagged my claw on his rug!”  
The prints on the rug began to warp before Matagot’s eyes, forming kaleidoscopic patterns of top hats and fanged mouths. His captor yelped desperately at him.  
“Okay! We have a common goal-so let me fuckin’ _walk!”_  
Matagot carefully pulled his claw out of the fabric, upon which the rug returned to its pseudo-Victorian disguise. The bear beckoned again; though the ancient hunter-cat part of Matagot’s brain considered fleeing, he followed it down the hall. Cowardly villains would be made short work of in this place.

(to be continued)


End file.
